


From A Lover To A Friend

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1980, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Coming Out, Consensual Infidelity, Family Feels, Fluff, John Lives AU, M/M, Making Up, Multi, Physical Therapy, Public Display of Affection, Smut, Temporary Physical Disability, Warnings apply to flashbacks, Yoko is not evil, as am i, press, she's just stressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: December 1980, John Lennon wakes up to find himself in a hospital room and is confused as to what happened. His old friend, Paul McCartney is there waiting by his bedside. Somebody shot him, and John doesn't know how he will recover. Thankfully, Paul is by his side and is not leaving any time soon.A John Lives AU. Not disrespect intended.





	1. Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is short but I will write more soon.

John Lennon slowly opened his eyes. His head hurt and he felt confused, when had he gone to sleep? His eyes struggled to take in his surroundings but found comfort in the apparently white ceiling, he was home. But then, why did the bed feel so unfamiliar? It was harder than his own. Christ, he felt sore and tired. He didn’t remember having sex the night before, in fact he didn’t remember anything about the night before. He remembered being at the studio, heading back to the Dakota...then? It all went blurry. Gingerly, he forced himself to sit up and was struck with a wave of pain. John couldn’t help but cry out. 

 

Quickly, a gentle but firm hand appeared and pushed him back down, “Easy there, John. You need to rest.” A familiar voice told him, he sounded tired as well.

 

“Paul? John breathed, his eyes watering at the stab of pain. 

 

His old friend smiled softly, “Yes, it’s me.”

 

John blinked repeatedly, “What...what are you doing here? Where am I?” He couldn’t be at the Dakota, his brief look at the room had told him that. 

 

His ex-partner hesitated, “..You’re in a hospital, John.”

 

John frowned, “What?” Shit, had they had a car accident?

 

Paul moved as if to grab his hand but stopped himself, his voice was wavering as he spoke, “You were shot.” He forced out.

 

“Wha- _ Argh _ !” Again, John had tried to sit up at the news. Well, that explained the pain then. 

 

Paul sighed and pushed him back down, “What did I tell you?” He said in a long forgotten mother hen voice, “You’ve got to stay down, doctor’s orders.”

 

John shook his head, “I,I don’t remember anything.” Then it hit him, “Yoko! Is she okay?”

 

Paul looked down, “...yes, she wasn’t injured.”

 

John narrowed his eyes, Paul’s tone was off. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 

Paul rubbed his eyes, “I hadn’t gotten here yet, but apparently she was in hysterics. The nurses tried to calm her down, they figured she was on something, but she left.” He cleared his throat, “I should go call her-”

 

“No!” John was quick to grab his wrist, but then let it go in embarrassment. “I, I don’t want to be alone.” He hated hospitals, he hated being surrounded by condescending people in uniform, and he felt worse for not remembering the incident that had gotten him there in the first place. 

 

Paul turned back around, secretly relieved, “Okay.”

 

John cleared his throat, “And Sean?” His son had to be okay, he wasn’t out with them. 

 

Paul smiled, “He came to see you with his nan. I, uh, think he’s sleeping right now in another room.” He chuckled, “Refused to leave, he did.” Then in a more serious tone said, “And, er, Julian called. We called Cynthia but he heard the news over the radio.”

 

John closed his eyes, poor Julian. 

 

Paul continued, “He want to see if he can come visit you.”

 

John gasped and did not hesitate to say, “Oh, I’d love that!” In recent years he’d written more to his older son, even if it was still awkward. He was happy that Julian wanted to see him.

 

Paul smiled, happy that John had said that. He kept going, “Ringo was the first one here, came straight from the Bahamas. He was the one that took Yoko home.” He laughed quietly, “He might have gone to catch some sleep too, we’ve been awake for days.” Almost three days in his case, he was living off coffee and stress.

 

John’s smile was soft, “You stayed.” He didn’t ask, he knew the answer. 

 

Paul blushed, “I, uh, couldn’t leave.” He coughed, “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” The nurses had put up fight but Paul had charmingly told them to get lost. 

 

John felt himself growing warm with affection, “Thank you, Macca.” He said. Then, “Still, you look like shit.”

 

Paul gave a genuine laugh at that, god he’d missed John. He didn’t know what he would have done if… “Says the one in the hospital bed.” He retorted in the same teasing tone. 

 

John hummed, “Come on.” He gestured to himself with his left arm because it hurt to move the right one. 

 

Paul tilted his head, “What?”

 

His friend sighed, “Come ‘ere, you look like you need it.”

 

Understanding, Paul shook his head. “John, don’t be ridiculous.” It had been years since they’re shared a bed, in  _ any _ way. Over a decade, a heavy decade that weighted down in both their minds. 

 

John groaned, “Oh, don’t be like that! It’s not like this is the first time.” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive way. 

 

Paul blushed but said nothing. 

 

John rolled his eyes, “I can see you about to yawn- yeah, you see?” He pointed to the yawning ex-beatle, “Come on.”

 

Paul had to admit the bed did look tempting, but still, “Anyone could walk in.”

 

John stared him down, “Macca,  _ please _ .” He widened in eyes in a pleading gesture. He wasn’t sure why he so desperately wanted Paul to lie with him, but he needed it, needed it now.

 

Paul let out a defeated sigh, “Alright, you soft lad.” The name was said fondly, however. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, and laid down next to his old friend. In seconds, he was asleep and clutching one of the pillows. 

 

John chuckled, nearly forty and yet still adorable. He leaned over the small space and deposited a gentle kiss on Paul’s forehead, then closed his own eyes and ‘snuggled’ (John Lennon did not snuggle. Nope. Naaah.) close to the younger man. He fell into sleep, not imagining what would greet him there.


	2. Stay

_ ‘Mr. Lennon’ An unfamiliar voice said.  _

 

_ John groaned and made a face at Yoko, who was about to enter the building. He turned, “Yes? Did you want some-” A loud sound, followed by an immense pain in his stomach. _

 

_ Another, now the pain was in his chest. Another, and another- pain was everywhere he turned but the pain followed he fell and gasped in pain vaguely he registered his wife screamed what was he doing was she okay he needed to help her fuck he was in agony was he bleeding was he dying the man stood above him it was that kid that kid with the album he had glasses he was smiling- _

 

_ John screamed.  _

 

“John! John!”

 

The man awoke with a gasp of pain in his lips and tears running down his cheeks. Arms enveloped him, with a soft voice saying, “It’s just a bad dream, Johnny. It’s okay.” Over and over again.

 

John collapsed in Paul’s arms. “I saw…” He sobbed, “I remembered, I- _ oh god _ .”

 

Paul was brushing his hair gently, “You’re safe now, you’re okay.” He whispered.

 

They laid there for a moment or too, John buried in Paul’s arms.

 

Then, “Who was it?” It was clear who he meant. 

 

His friend hesitated, “John-”

 

“I need to know.” John said firmly, still resting his head on Paul’s chest. 

 

The younger man swallowed, “His name..is Mark Chapman, apparently he’d been stalking you for days.”

 

John nodded, “I signed his album.” He took a deep breath and asked, “Why did he do it?”

 

Paul sighed, “He claims it was an act to become famous, or something like that. I don’t know, he’s a bloody psychopath.” He hissed, surprising them both with his anger.

 

John hummed, “He’s in custody, then?” He supposed that made him feel safer. 

 

Paul nodded, “Yes, didn’t up up a fight.” He shook his head, “Freak.”

 

John closed his eyes, “Paul…” 

 

“What?” Paul answered, angry now. “He’s a horrible man, he nearly  _ killed _ you!” At John’s answering flinch, Paul winced and held him close again. In a whisper, he continued, “Don’t ask me to be kind, not to him.”

 

John played with Paul’s sweater, “Hold old is he?” John didn’t know why he was so interested, he supposed it was only fair that he knew about his would be murdered as he did of him. 

 

Paul frowned, “Twenty-something, I guess.” he tenses slightly, then relaxed. “The police should be here in the morning, they’ll want a statement or something.”

 

John groaned, he hated the police. “Will you stay?” He also hated the vulnerability in his voice.

 

Paul smiled, “Of course.”

 

John closed his eyes, “Thank you, Macca.”

 

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

 

* * *

 

Paul was talking to a doctor at the moment. The police had come and gone, too starstruck to be of any use and causing more headaches than reassurance. 

 

At the moment, John was getting visited by David Bowie (who’d been in town performing in Broadway) and Elton John (who’s hurried over as soon as he’d heard.) Ringo was currently calling his girlfriend, Barbara, but had talked to John earlier. 

 

He had given John an enormous hug and said, “Christ, you’re okay.” There had been tears in the drummer’s eyes and in John’s as well. George had yet to make contact, or so Ringo said. Still, it had appeared as though he'd been hiding something.

 

Paul listened as the doctor spoke of how John was expected to make a full recovery except, except what?

 

“He won’t be able to use his arm?” Paul asked. John had been shot in his right shoulder and it had been a hassle getting the bullet out. No wonder the older man didn’t dare move it, it must feel like agony. 

 

The doctor sighed, he would have preferred to speak to a relative of the patient, but John had signed a paper letting Paul do it because he frankly did not wish to speak to a doctor about his condition. And so here he was. “The damage was extensive. He will need physical therapy, some exercises he can practice on his own, before he’ll be able to move it properly again.”  _ If, _ the doctor added privately in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Sean launched himself at his father, taking the pained groaned as one of his daddy’s usual mock ones. “Daddy!” He yelled, “I missed you, daddy. Why did you sleep so much?” Yoko had tried his best to explain the situation to him without scaring him, but it had been difficult and he hadn’t understood completely. 

 

John held him son close, “I missed you too, Sean-chan, so much.” And to answer his son’s question, “You see, Sean, I was hurt for a little while, but I’m alright now.”

 

Sean frowned, “Why were you hurt?”

 

John hesitated, “There was a bad man that wanted to hurt me, because he was unwell.” He sighed, “And he succeeded, but I got fixed right up, sweetheart.”

 

Sean hugged him, “I’m glad you’re okay, daddy.”

 

John kissed his forehead and smiled, “I’m happy too.”

* * *

 

Yoko had arrived, she was at John’s side at the moment with Paul looking on from the doorway. He’d noticed that they hadn’t kissed but they were holding hands and whispering to each other. It reminded Paul of the White Album sessions or the filming of Let It Be, once those two got in their bubble (or bag) there was no getting them out. He heard John’s speak up.

 

“He’s been very helpful.” He said and shot him a wide smile that made Paul’s insides feel warm.

 

He shrugged, “It’s the least I could do.”

 

Yoko gave an almost pained smile but her tone was polite when she said, “Thank you very much, Paul. I’m sure John was happy to see you.” John’s frantic nods made all three of them laugh. 

 

“Always a pleasure.” It seemed to formal for what they were, all three of them. 

 

Yoko continued in a firm tone, “You can go now, I’m sure you need your rest.” With another smile, “I’m taking care of John now.” 

 

It reminded Paul way too much of one of the last recording sessions, Paul had stormed out and had been followed by Yoko. She’d said the same thing then: ‘I’m taking care of John now.’ He wondered if it was intentional, and knowing Yoko, it probably was. Still, she was the wife and he was the old friend. “I, of course.” He cleared his throat, “I’m staying at a hotel nearby with Ringo. Give us a call?” He gave a weak smile.

 

John smiled back, a much smaller one compared to his earlier one, but said nothing as Paul let the hospital room.

 

* * *

 

“How was John?” Linda asked over the phone, they had barely talked in the past few days since Paul was so distracted because of John. She understood, of course, the shock had been horrible when the news came in. Their manager had told her first and then she’d had the task of telling Paul which hadn’t been easy, he’d nearly collapsed when he heard. 

 

Her husband answered her, “The doctor’s expect a full recovery. But I’m worried about his mental state.” The nightmare had been proof enough, his friend would not walk away unscathed by the experience. 

 

Linda hummed, “I suppose Yoko will help him.” She said, hoping to remind him that John did, in fact, have a wife looking after him and Paul shouldn’t have to drive himself to the ground. “When are you coming home?”

 

Paul sighed quietly, “Soon, I expect.” Selfishly, he wanted John to need  _ him _ , not Yoko. It had been years since they’d acted and felt so close.

 

“Well, hurry back.” Linda said, “And please send John our best, the girls are worried.”

 

Paul smiled, “Tell them he’s going to be fine. Goodbye, Lin.”

 

“Goodbye, I love you.” Linda held her breath.

 

Paul delivered, “Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

“I came to say goodbye.” Said Paul to a relaxed looking John. He had slept for twelve hours and had taken a bath of two hours. Now here he was, visiting John who’d been alone in the hospital.

 

John frowned and tensed, “You’re leaving so soon?” He said in an upset tone. 

 

Paul knew this was coming, “It’s been over a week. I’ve gotta get back to my kids, John.” Of course John had been sleeping for most of that week but…

 

John swallowed, reminded of his own kids that he could have lost forever. ‘It’s just I..I thought maybe we could...hang?” He gave a miniscule shrug of his left shoulder, “Y’know, once I’m out of here.” He didn’t want to say that he had missed Paul dearly.

 

Paul said nothing, but he bit his lip. Oh, how he wanted to take up John on his offer.

 

John kept going, “They said I’ll have to do some exercises if I ever want to play again.” The news had been like a stab in his heart, and it pained him to even utter the words. 

 

Paul nodded sympathetically, “I know.”

 

“Yoko says it’s not that serious.” He faked a nonchalant expression, “Her psychics don’t trust the hospital.” And hell, they’d been right before. 

 

But they’d also been wrong. 

 

Paul fought the urge to roll his eyes, “You  _ should _ trust them, John. I’d hate to see you suffer.” 

 

John took the rope, “Then stay.” He said with widened eyes. “Please, Macca.” There, he’d begged. “I need  _ you _ . Yoko’s distracted with the police and the business and the money, and she doesn’t trust anyone. I need someone.” He decided to push farther, “I need my  _ princess _ .” He gave a goofy smile to soften the blow.

 

Paul’s breath caught at the nickname. This is what he’d wanted, he’d wanted John to need him, to want him, and voila. Here it was, John was pleading for him to stay. But, “Linda-”

 

“Can wait.” Interrupted John, irritated. “ _ I’m _ the one that just got shot.” Selfish, he knew, but Linda had Paul all year, this was John’s chance. 

 

Paul sighed, letting go of the already small fight in him. “Alright,” He said, “I’ll stay, John.”

 

John’s smile was blinding. “I’ll tell mother, you can move into the Dakota.” Then, sheepishly, “Temporarily, of course.”

 

Paul frowned, “Won’t she mind? I wouldn’t want to interfere with your space-”

 

John waved him away, “She sleeps downstairs most days, anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Yo can share with me, we don’t have a spare bedroom.” Technically, the had many flats in which Paul could stay but John wanted him as close as possible. 

 

Paul blushed and raised an eyebrow. He bit his lip and shook his head at John, rebucking him silently. Still, he said, “Yes, that’ll work.” He raised a finger, “But, John, no funny business.” And he believed he meant it.

 

John made an innocent face, “Of course not, Macca. Don’t be ridiculous.” His smile was amused.


	3. dakota

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short im sorry

 

“This is ridiculous!” John yelled at the poor orderly, “I don’t need a bloody wheelchair!”

 

Paul and Ringo smiled at their friend. John was getting discharged today and the orderly had arrived with a wheelchair. Yoko had called and said that she would be too occupied to be there but John hadn’t seemed either surprised and/or upset. 

 

“The car is waiting outfront, John.” Ringo said amusedly, “It’d getting attacked by fans, don’t make the poor driver have to wait any longer.”

 

Paul laughed, “Just like the old days, huh?”

 

All three of them smiled and John finally agreed to be wheeled around the hospital. All three signed a few autographs on the way out and three Japanese men in black suits greeted them at the door. 

 

“Mr. Lennon, sir.” The tallest one said, “Mrs. Ono has hired us to ensure your safety.”

 

John groaned but it was for show, in all seriousness he was grateful, the paranoia settling in. 

 

He insisted on walking to the car but had Paul’s arm against his back helping him remain up. The crowds of hundreds cheered as they saw him come out and all three smiled for them. They each breathed a sigh of relief when they were able to enter the limo, two of the bodyguards in the back with them and one up front next to the driver.

 

Paul had his suitcases in the boot, seeing as he was going to be staying with John. They were going to drop off Ringo at his hotel, but had no clue if he was going to be leaving any time soon. The drummer had seemed relieved rather than upset that Paul was no longer going to be staying at the hotel, for reasons unknown.

 

* * *

 

“Home sweet home!” Exclaimed John as he took in the Dakota. It had been odd entering the building, the sight of where he’d been shot frightening him. There had also been crowds of what could have been thousands. They had cheered when they saw him come out, cheered more when Paul came out, and cheered even more when John, out of a long forgotten reflex, had raised his arm in a fist. But now he was back in his safe, white apartment. “At fucking last.” He said. 

 

There was a patter of running feet, “Daddy!” Screamed Sean as he appeared in the hallway, “You’re back!”

 

John kneeled to greet his son in an one arm hug, seeing as he had his right arm in a sling. 

 

Paul watched them with a fond smile and it was then that Sean noticed his presence and grew confused. “Daddy?” He asked, looking questioningly at Paul.

 

John smiled at his friend, “Your Uncle Paul is going to be staying with us for a while.” He turned to his son with a concerned frown, “Is that okay?”

 

Sean’s answer was a shy nod. 

 

John had an idea, “Paul here wrote Yellow Submarine, and A Little Help.” Those were Sean’s favourite songs, much to John’s dismay and Ringo’s amusement.

 

Instantly, Sean’s attitude changed and he hurled himself at Paul’s legs, squeezing them in a hug. 

 

Paul let out a startled laugh but kneeled to hug the kid properly. “Hello, Sean. It’s been awhile.” He smiled at John and the older man smiled back. 

 

* * *

 

It was late at night when Paul was making tea. Sean had gone to bed ages ago and John was on the phone with Yoko, of which Paul was keeping his mouth shut about. 

 

“Goodnight, mother.” Said John, “Will I see you tomorrow? Alright, goodnight.” He hung up with a tiny smile, not the smile of a lover more of the one of a good friend. 

 

Paul dared to raise the question, “So she doesn’t sleep here?” He offered a cup of tea as a gesture of peace.

 

John shrugged and took the cup, “Ta. She does sometimes, but she’s usually in the phone at night, calling who knows where, and she doesn’t want to disturb me and Sean.” He smiled sensually, knowing he actually looked like goofy, “And better for us she’s not here, right, luv?” 

 

Paul looked at him, “John…” He sighed, what to say?”

 

John’s gaze turned serious. He straightened up and let out a breath, “I’ve missed you, Paul.” Well, there it was. “You have no idea.”

 

The younger man looked into his cup, “I think I do.” He murmured. 

 

John put his tea down, “I’ve been too much of a cowards to admit it, but I could never let you go.” All the words he’d been swallowing for years were spilling out, with John having no control over them. Here was Paul, his friend, his lover, in his home and sharing a cup of tea with him. This had been John’s desire for what felt like eons. 

 

Paul frowned and started to play with his wedding ring, “We’re married, John. We both have kids.”

 

John gave a miniscule shrug, “Same argument as before. I had Cyn and Julian before.” He dared to go on, “And you have Linda in ‘74.” When they had made love in the Los Angeles beach for the first time in five years, away from prying eyes. “And in ‘76.” When Paul had visited John in New York and kissed him in the roof of this very building. 

 

Paul tried to tell himself that he should walk away, tried to tell himself that it was late, tried to tell himself that Linda was missing him right this very moment. Desperately told himself that what he had once shared with John was over, had been over for a decade. They, being young and foolish, or perhaps old and wise, had destroyed it. Paul tried and tried, but Paul failed. He spoke, “I know...God, Johnny I missed you too.” There, he’d said it. 

 

Like magnets, they moved towards one another and held each other as they one had done one every possible night. 

 

John brushed the hair in Paul’s neck, “I’m here now.” He said. 

 

Paul’s voice broke as he whispered, “I almost lost you.” He buried his face on John’s neck. 

 

John hushed him, “I’m okay, princess. Please don’t cry.” He caressed Paul’s back, “I love you, I’m okay.”

 

Paul held him tighter but lifted his head, “I love you too.” He said. “I never stopped, I promise.” His eyes were wide, begging John to listen.

 

They stood forehead to forehead, their tea’s forgotten. 

 

John spoke, “Stay,” He said, not really thinking about anything but having his princess back in his arms, “Stay here with me.”

 

Paul wasn’t thinking either, “I will, Johnny.” He promised, “I’ll never leave you again.” 

 

They kissed and it was beautiful. Oh, the magnificence of two people’s souls blending together. And with that kiss they forgave and they forgot, and with this kiss they promised and they loved. Paul kissed John, and the world was upright again.


	4. George

They were laying in John’s bed in a comfortable position that would ensure John’s arm and back did not ache much. John was resting his head in the crock of Paul’s arm as the younger man gently moved his fingers over the bandages covering John’s scars. 

 

John couldn’t believe it, he had Paul back. Who knows for how long, but that was the least of it, Paul had said that he loved him and that was enough for John.

 

Paul was thinking about how he almost lost John without telling him how much he had missed him and how much he still loved him. Linda didn’t cross his mind at the moment, there was only John. 

 

John spoke up in a soft voice, “Do you think I’ll be able to play again? I can hardly move my arm, much less my fingers.” His tone was despondent.

 

Paul leaned down to kiss him, “Of course you will, Johnny. I’ll help you.” He smiled.

 

John wasn’t wearing his glasses and the darkness ended any other chance of him seeing Paul, but he could guess about the smile. “Paul?” He said.

 

Paul hummed to show he was listening, his eyes closed.

 

“I want to play with you.”

 

The younger man’s eyes snapped open, “What?” He gasped.

 

John cringed, “I know I’ve said no countless of times before, but I...I miss it, I miss you and I miss your bossy comments and corrections. The studio is not the same without you by my side.” He lamented.

 

Paul understood, of course. He too had spent years trying to fill the void that was John while trying to not use Linda or the band as replacements. “I’d love to, John.”

 

John sounded surprised, “You would?” After how much of an asshole John had been before?

 

“Yeah, I would, you bastard. You know it’s what I’ve always wanted, nothing’s changed.” Paul laughed, “Well, apart from the obvious.” He amended and nodded at their intertwined bodies.

 

John buried his nose in Paul’s chest, “Thank you.”

 

Paul played with his hair, “You don’t have to thank me, darling.”

 

John moved his head closer to Paul’s, “Not just for that, for everything you’ve done and will do.” He rubbed their noses together, making Paul’s wrinkle adorably. “Thank you.”

 

Paul smiled, “You’re welcome, then.”

 

John laid back down with a sigh, “Christ, look at us. We’ve gone soft!”

 

“Comes with age.” Paul agreed.

 

* * *

 

“And now, stretch it-completely, John- and fold it back, yes that’s it.” Paul praised from where he was standing behind John, massaging his shoulder.

 

John groaned, “Fuck, how many more of these?” He stretched it back out. 

 

“Just a few more, darling.” Paul answered, happy to be using loving nicknames again.

 

His lover made a face and whimpered as he folded his arm back up again, stressing his shoulder. 

 

Paul cooed at him and rubbed his forearm, “Okay, we can stop there for now.” He smiled, “It’ll get easier with time.”

 

John leaned back into the younger man’ arms, “How do you know?”

 

His lover wrapped his arms around John and squeezed gently, “The doctor said so. And I’m not stopping until you’re all better.”

 

“Daddy?” Came Sean’s voice from the entrance to the bedroom.

 

John schooled his tired features into a smile as Paul moved away and turned to face his son, “Yes, Sean-chan?”

 

Sean walked towards them, he was holding a VHS in his hand. “Can we watch Yellow Submarine? I want Uncle Paul to see it.”

 

John hid a groan, he’d seen the movie practically every day since Ringo had gifted it to Sean but then he remembered that he could very well not have seen it ever again. His face darkened for a second before he nodded, “I’m sure Paul would love to see it.”

 

Paul nodded, “Yeah, it’s been well over a decade since I saw it last.”

 

John stood up, “The girls never watched it?”

 

Paul shrugged, “We never thought about it. I’m sure maybe some of their friends have seen it though.”

 

They headed into the living room, where a wide television was sitting in front of wide, white sofas. Paul offered to put on the film and said, “By the way, Julian should be arriving by the end of the week. Ringo said he called to say in the morning.”

 

John nodded anxiously. He’d had fun the last time he’d seen Julian, but it had been tense and difficult at times. He just really hope he wouldn’t screw it up. 

 

Sean looked up, “Julian is coming?” He asked with a smile.

 

John nodded and gave him a kiss on the forehead, “Yes, he’s going to be staying with us for awhile.” When he’d told Yoko he’d received a tense look but no comment. John stopped himself from feeling guilty, just because Yoko was unable to be with Kyoko it didn’t mean that he had to keep on ignoring Julian, it wasn’t fair to either John or him. 

 

Sean smiled at his father as Paul sat to the other side of him. They made quite the domestic picture, just two dads and their son. If only. 

 

* * *

 

Ringo opened his hotel room door to a sorry sight. It had been raining outside and George Harrison was completely soaked. The younger man was shivering and his suitcases appeared wet. 

 

“Hey.” George said in a meek voice, “Can I come in?”

 

Ringo smiled, “Yeah, of course, George.” George had called him as soon as he’d heard about John, sounding very distraught. He’d said that his relationship with John was not the best at the moment and he didn’t dare call him. Ringo had encouraged him to visit, and said it would be kept a secret. 

 

George set down his suitcase and went to the hall to grab his guitar case and a smaller on that held an ukulele. Then he grabbed another suitcase. 

 

Ringo laughed, “Packed well, did you?”

 

George shrugged, “I, er, I brought something for John.”

 

Ringo smiled gently, “That’s great.”

 

He led his friend onto the bedroom that used to be Paul’s and they put the suitcases near the bed. 

 

George took out his ukulele, “I was thinking perhaps we could go to the Dakota tomorrow.” He frowned, he didn’t know how to feel. Guilty was the main thought. Guilty at having omitted John from his book and at not talking to him in years. He knew the older man had been hurt, heard about through the showbiz grapevine. Olivia had encouraged him to call to explain and George had, but never heard back. 

 

Ringo sat on the bed, “It’s gonna be okay, George. John won’t be mad at ye.”

 

The younger man started to strum his little instrument, “You think so?”

 

Ringo bumped him affectionately, “I know so. He’ll be happy to see you, both of them will.”

 

George frowned, “You said Paul is with him?”

 

“Yeah.” The drummer said, “I, uh, I think maybe they’re together in  _ every _ way, again. 

 

George gasped, “Y’mean they’re lovers again?” He smiled, “That’s wonderful!” 

 

Ringo chuckled at his friend’s excitement, “Yeah, it’s about goddamn time if y’ask me.”

 

They laughed together.

 

* * *

 

Paul stood up from where he was looking at the hospital papers when there was a knock on the door, “I’ll get it, it’s probably Ringo.”

 

John was trying to cook with one arm and sorta failing, but Sean was there to pass him stuff. He was making a salad and pasta for them to eat. 

 

Paul opened the door with a smile but froze when he saw who was on the other side. At Ringo’s side was George Harrison, holding a fat suitcase and giving a tentative smile.

 

Paul’s smile was soft, “George, you came.”

 

His friend nodded, “I had to.”

 

“Come in.” Paul moved aside and ushered them inside. “John’s in the kitchen fixing us something to eat, I’m sure he’ll want you to stay.”

 

George said nothing, his stomach felt like coiled wire and his thoughts were wrecked by nerves. 

 

They entered the kitchen and John turned.

 

“Hey, so was it Rin...George.” John looked at his friend, eyes widening a bit behind the lenses of his round glasses. (He wondered what had happened to his square ones he’d bought recently and had been wearing the day of the shooting.)

 

The man in question smiled, “Hey.” He swallowed and thrusted the suitcase towards John.

 

The older man was startled by the movement but reached out to take it, seeing that George needed him to get it. He set it on the table and opened it. He gasped, the entire suitcase was filled with chocolate olivers, John’s favourite snack and impossible to find in New York. His eyes watered at the thoughtful gesture, “Oh, George…”

 

George stood up straight, “I’m so sorry I’ve been an arse, John.” He looked down, “I was hurt and angry and I couldn’t let it go.” He voice broke, “And you almost  _ died _ and you would’ve..passed thinking that I hated you but-” He took a shuddering breath, “But I don’t, John. You’re my brother.” He was crying now, “I’m so sorry, John. I’m-”

 

John had moved in now was was hugging him fiercely, “It’s okay, George. I forgive, I’m sorry too.” He too had tears falling down his face. 

 

The other two were looking on with smiles on their faces, and it was soon after that Ringo said, “Alright, group hug.” And he and Paul joined in as well, with George ending up squished in the middle.

 

They held each other for a long time, happy to be together once more. 

 

It was John who moved away first, sniffing and wiping his tears, “Alright, ya bunch of queers, that’s enough of that.”

 

They laughed and Paul reached up to ruffle George’s hair, making the younger man give him a mock glare.

 

Ringo shook his head, “Look who’s talking, Lennon.”

 

Paul froze but John only laughed, “Yeah, you’re right, Richie. Me an’ Paul are just a pair of queens, aren’t we, luv?” He said as he turned to Paul.

 

His lover was frowning at the other two, “Was it that obvious?”

 

Sensing his distress, George soothed, “Only to us, but that’s ‘cause we’ve seen it before.” He smiled widely, “And are very happy to see it again.”

 

Paul smiled and took John’s offered hand. They squeezed them, things were looking up. 


	5. I'm Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be patient with me regarding the medical stuff, I did my research but obviously I'm not an expert and I'm reaching a bit.

All four ex-beatles were laughing, sitting all over John’s living room and reminiscing about the old days. Sean had gone to sleep after his nanny had arrived, she’d come of her own will, not wanting John to have too much to worry about.

 

“Do you remember,” Said Ringo, “That reporter who asked if George painted his eyebrows?”

 

“Or the one that asked if Paul plucked his.” John spluttered out a laugh.

 

The two men in question glared and George said, “They were just jealous, weren’t they, Paul?”

 

Paul grinned, “Damn right ye are, Hazza.” They’d been drinking lightly because the doctor had asked that John not take in anything such as alcohol and drugs. 

 

“And then when they asked about John’s teeth?” George laughed, “They were so straight then.”

 

John grinned and showed his still mostly straight teeth, “And they remain straight!” (Some of them were actually crooked but the look suited him, he thought.)

 

Ringo took a sip of his drink, “About the only part of ye that does.” 

 

John flipped him off but shrugged, he was right. 

 

George took a deep breath, knowing he was taking a risk as he asked, “How’s Yoko? Does she know?”

 

Paul tensed but John only waved him away.

 

“Probably. Knows everything, Yoko does.” He made an indifferent face, “She doesn’t mind, she has her own boyfriends to worry about.” The laugh did sound a tad more forced this time. 

 

Ringo looked at him sympathetically, “Oh?” He wanted to see if his friend wanted to talk about it.

 

John sighed and hid a wince, his stomach had been really bothering him since the morning but he wanted to say nothing, “Yeah, Sam something and Sam someone. They don’t know about each other and I’m not supposed to know about either but-” He shrugged, “-hard not to.” He shook his head, “I don’t mind really, I mean here am I with Paul, she can be with who she wants.” 

 

Paul wanted to protest and say that they’d only gotten together just now and this clearly had been something that had been going on for a while, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Yoko had been polite and indeed, if she knew about the affair, had done nothing to prevent it. There was nothing more Paul could ask.

 

George hummed and was about to talk when John groaned loudly. “John?” He asked, concerned. 

 

Paul put a hand on his lover’s shoulder and frowned, “Johnny, what’s wrong?”

 

John gasped in pain, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

 

George rolled his eyes, “Me arse your fine, Lennon.” Why did everyone have to be so prideful?

 

Ringo stood up and went to John’s side.

 

John put a hand at his side and bit down another groan, “Seriously, I think I just ate too much.”

 

Paul looked on incredulous, “You barely ate  _ anything _ , John.”

 

John’s answer was interrupted by a wail escaping his mouth. He was starting to feel lightheaded too. 

 

Paul held him close, “Johnny, where does it hurt?”

 

Knowing lying would get him no further, John spoke, “My..side.” 

 

Ringo raised a hand and pressed lightly where John had been resting his own. He immediately moved back when the younger man yelped and whimpered. 

 

George walked towards the kitchen, “Take off his shirt.” He instructed as he grabbed a cloth and started to wet it.

 

Paul started to do as instructed while John forced a chuckle.

 

“Oh, Georgie.” He groaned, “You could’ve just-Argh!” 

 

Ringo had accidentally brushed the zone again, “Sorry!” They raised the shirt and threw it away. Ringo’s eyes widened, “..christ..”

 

George walked back in, “What is it?”

 

Paul leaned over to see and stifled a gasp, not wanting to alarm John. His side was covered in a purple shade, deep purple and showing no discoloration like a mere bruise would. He just held the older man righter. 

 

George saw the stain and gaped, “How could they miss this!?” ‘They’ being the doctors.

 

Paul shook his head, “It wasn’t there yesterday, I don’t..I don’t think.” To be honest, he hadn’t really looked. But when he’d helped John dress for bed he hadn’t seen any spot, he couldn’t have possibly missed such a huge one.

 

Ringo stood up, “He needs to go to the hospital.” 

 

Paul helped John stand up, his lover leaning heavily on him. “You’ll be okay, Johnny.” He had to be.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, they had been able to bring the car inside the Dakota and hadn’t had to drag John through the multitude of fans still camping outside the Dakota(Why hadn’t the police done anything about them?) but they had no such luck outside the hospital. John had fainted on car ride and Paul hadn’t gotten him to do more than blearily open his eyes and then close them again. The younger man had no choice but carry John bridal style to the front of the hospital in view of everyone standing near, but he didn’t give a damn. John’s breathing was shallow and he was sweating. 

 

George opened the door for them and they bursted in. “Nurse! Please, anyone!” 

 

Soon, there were a couple of nurses and a doctor with a cart surrounding them. They asked Paul to deposit John there and they started to take him away, shouting instructions at each other. 

 

Paul was reluctant to let go of John’s hand but a kind nurse grabbed his arm, “They’ll take care of him, Mr. McCartney. For now, I need you to answer some questions.”

 

Blearily, Paul nodded. 

 

Ringo patted his back, “I’ll call Yoko, if they haven’t already.”

 

Paul nodded again, unable to find his voice. John had been  _ fine _ , everything was supposed to be alright. What was wrong?”

 

* * *

 

“Internal bleeding!?” Yoko screeched at the cowering doctor, “How could you fools miss that!?” She’d rushed over the moment Ringo had told her what had happened. A doctor had appeared half an hour later, saying that John was still in surgery. Apparently, in their rush to take care of the many bullet wounds, they had missed the internal bleeding near his stomach.

 

George winced from where he was standing in the waiting room, Yoko’s yells could be heard from the hallway. “She’s really going at him, isn’t she?”

 

Paul was also glaring at the doctor through the see through wall, “Good. I’d like to give them a piece of my mind too.”

 

Ringo put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, “Paul, these things happen. We got to him in time.”

 

“Did we?” Paul muttered darkly. He wasn’t in the mood for optimism, John had been limp in his arms. He could have died. 

 

“The doctor said he’s still in surgery.” Yoko entered the room, “He has no more news.”

 

George, unexpectedly, walked towards her and put a friendly arm around her shoulders, “Are you alright?” 

 

She looked at him, “Yes, I will be. As long as the doctors do their job properly this time.” 

 

Paul nodded along. If they lost John, there would be no forgiveness. Everything had been going so well, why did this have to happen?

 

* * *

 

Time had passed, Paul had called Cynthia with the news and tried to comfort her. He’d also called Linda, who had tried to comfort him but hadn’t had much success. Elton was back and was sitting in one of the chairs staring into the distance. David Bowie was currently in the middle of a performance and had no idea what had happened. Joining them in the waiting room was Bobby Seale himself, who’d come over from where he was visiting Philadelphia and was planning to visit the Dakota when he’d heard the news that Lennon was in the hospital again. Yoko and him had been talking for some time, and Paul suspected they were trying to figure out if there was more than what met the eye in the situation. 

 

He too had been having his doubts about the almost assassination. The man responsible had been very willing to get arrested and he had explained his reasoning right away. At the time when the police told him so he’d been too upset to really think about it, but it seemed too perfect. Had this Chapman been a hired hand? It made little sense, John hadn’t done any political work in years, same with Yoko. Why now?

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a young doctor entering the room, “Family of John Lennon?”

 

All seven of them stood up and Yoko stepped forwards, “Yes?”

 

The doctor stared for a moment, “Would you like to step out-”

 

“Is he alive?” Demanded Paul impatiently. 

 

The doctor gave up, “Yes,  we were able to stabilize Mr.Lennon.” She said.

 

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

 

She continued, “Still, we would like to keep him for a few more days for observation. It would not do well to...miss anything.”

 

“Again, you mean.” Elton said with narrowed eyes. 

 

The doctor, to her credit, only nodded. “Indeed.” 

 

“Is he awake?” Yoko asked.

 

“No.” She answered, “Mr.Lennon is resting, but we expect he will wake up soon.”

 

George spoke up, “Can we see him?”

 

The doctor looked at Yoko, “One at a time, and family has priority, of course.”

 

Then, to everyone’s surprise, she turned to Paul, “Would you like to see him?”

 

Paul stared at her, “..I, yes, of course.”

 

She nodded at him to go.

 

He thanked with a brief hug and followed the doctor, who only appeared to hesitate for a moment. 


	6. Plans and Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay update! read and leave a comment if u like and if u havent already a kudo would be great too. Thanks!

John was sleeping with a mask over his face when Paul entered the room. He looked peaceful, but Paul couldn’t help but notice how thin he was. It was something he hadn’t wanted to mention because he knew that weight was a sensitive issue to John. Still, he’d been able to see his ribs and his cheekbones were very pronounced. He looked good, but it couldn’t be healthy. 

 

He thought about his recent call with Linda, she had sounded concerned but there was also a touch of...irritation? in her voice as he told her that he wouldn’t be coming home any time soon. He longed to tell her that he would go right now, but John needed him and Paul did too. 

 

He dragged a chair close to the bed and sat down. He grabbed one of John’s hands and caressed it with his thumb. “Oh, Johnny...what are we going to do?”

 

John, naturally, didn’t answer. 

 

Paul brought his hand up his lips and pressed a soft kiss on John’s palm. “I love you, but I’ve got Linda and the kids...I can’t leave them, John. I can’t.” Paul loved his family, he loved being a dad. And John had a family as well, even if his relationship with Yoko was really no longer the one of a husband and wife. Besides, John was unpredictable, he was caring and in love with Paul now, but once months passed and he got better? Would he leave Paul again? The younger man needed stability, Linda gave him that. But there was something about John that made him feel alive, and there was also the matter of them recording together again, if Paul drew away again who knows if John would still be willing to record. 

 

He brushed aside a lock of John’s hair, “But I can’t leave you either, you beautiful man.” He remembered something John had told him once in the sixties. ‘We’re partners Paul, in everything. We’ll never be able to leave each other.’

 

* * *

 

John was awake, he’d awoken while being visited by Yoko and Sean. At the moment, Elton was talking with him. 

 

“Honestly, John. The things you put us through.” He tried to sound exasperated but there was a heavy tone of relief in his voice. 

 

John’s voice was weak, “You know you love me.”

 

Elton said nothing. He frowned.

 

John frowned as well, “What’s wrong?” He chuckled, “Apart from the obvious, I, I mean.”

 

His friend looked at him, “I was thinking about this gig I had three months ago, here in central park. I played Imagine.”

 

John smiled, “I know.”

 

“Who told you?” Elton asked.

 

“I heard you.” John sighed, “From my bedroom window.”

 

“Oh.” Elton looked down, “Did you like my rendition?”

 

“You changed the words, ye bastard.” John said trying to sound upset, but the smile in his face said otherwise. “‘You may say I’m a screamer’?”

 

Elton laughed, “You’ve got to admit it got me a few laughs.”

 

“It got you mine.” John closed his eyes and hid a yawn.

 

The younger man noticed, “I’ll let you rest, you need it.”

 

John only nodded in response and fell into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

“So Christmas is fast approaching.” Ringo said to the other two beatles. They were in the hotel room, Paul not having felt comfortable with staying at the dakota without John there. 

 

Paul looked up from his drink, “Yes?”

 

The drummer shrugged, “Just thought maybe we...ought to celebrate together, with the family of course.”

 

George frowned, “Have a huge reunion, you mean?”

 

Ringo nodded, “Yes. Seeing as John will probably be unable to travel for while, and I don’t plan on leavin’ ‘til he’s better.”

 

Paul smiled, “I think that’s a great idea, George?” And he did, that way he could be with John but still celebrate with his children as should be.

 

George thought for a moment, “I don’t think Olivia would mind, and I do miss Dhani.” He smiled, “He loves Christmas.” The most the baby understood about it at least.

 

Ringo clapped his hands, “It’s settled then, we’ll tell John tomorrow.”

 

They smiled at each other, happy that their relationship was looking up.

 

* * *

 

Paul frowned as he looked over the front cover of the New York Times, it had a clear picture that showed him carrying John in his arms. The headline said ‘Lennon-McCartney: More than partners?’ He shook his head in disgust, how could they talk rumours when John had been dying in his arms? Dogs, the lot of them, hungry dogs. He threw the paper into a nearby bin and took another drag of his cigarette. Paul was in one of the smoking areas of the hospital, thinking and contemplating. They’d told John and Yoko about the Christmas idea and they had both agreed that it would be a fun thing to do. The thing was, Linda and his kids would be there. And Paul would have to act as the loving husband, which he was, but he was also the loving boyfriend of John. With both wives being there, he only hoped matters didn’t turn tense between them. 

 

Paul put out his cigarette and headed back into the waiting room. It was only him and George there now, Ringo having headed back to the hotel for a nap. George had said he was too wired to sleep, but had gone down to the cafeteria to try and get something to eat without being harrassed. 

 

When Paul entered the waiting room, he was surprised to see Julian and Cynthia standing there looking lost. 

 

“Cynthia!” He called. 

 

She turned to him and smiled in relief, “Oh, Paul! There you are, we’ve been looking for a familiar face.”

 

He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then he turned to a quiet Julian, “Hey there, Julian.”

 

“Hello, Paul.” The teenager answered with a small smile.

 

“You want to see John? He might be sleeping but I’m not sure.” Paul said. 

 

Cynthia looked down, “Julian will see him, I think I’ll wait.” Truth was, she wasn’t sure how she was going to be received. 

 

Paul nodded in understanding and turned to Julian, “Alright then, come Jules, I’ll take you to his room.”

 

There was hesitation in Julian’s steps as they neared the hospital room. He hadn’t see his dad in over a year now and while their interactions had been nice, they had also been pretty awkward most of the time. He didn’t want to have to face that again. 

 

Paul opened the door for the teen and closed it quietly after. 

 

Julian stared at his father, who was sleeping, “He looks so...fragile.”

 

“He’ll get better soon.” Paul said it as a promise. To himself, John, or Julian he didn’t know. 

 

“You bet your ass I will.” Came a croaky voice from the bed. John proceeded to open his eyes and squint in their general direction. 

 

Hurriedly, Paul went to his side and passed his his glasses. 

 

John’s eyes magnified as he put them on and he blinked a few times, the prescription was a bit off. He spotted Julian and offered a tentative smile, “Hello, Jules.”

 

Julian returned it while looking at the ground, “Hey, dad.”

 

John turned to Paul, “Could you give us a moment?” He asked.

 

Paul nodded, “Of course.” He squeezed John’s hand and Julian’s shoulder as he passed. 

 

John looked at his son after the door was closed again, “Come on, sit with me.”

 

Slowly, Julian followed his father’s wish and sat on the left side of the bed.

 

The singer contemplated putting a hand on his son’s arm, but figured that might be too much too fast. Instead, he started talking, “Julian,” He said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been neglectful and unfair to you.”

 

As an instint, Julian immediately started, “No, dad-”

 

“No, I have.” John interrupted with a raised hand. He shook his head slightly, “I was young and irresponsible when you were born, too young. And I know that’s no excuse but I want you to understand, I didn’t stay away because I didn’t love you, I...I was just afraid to hurt you.” Julian had been the first child he had had to interact with in years and he’d struggled immensely when he did try. John laughed sardonically, “Guess I did anyway.”

 

Julian looked at his father in awe as he heard the words he’d been longing for for a long time. “But it’s not too late. We’re together now.”

 

John did grab his hand then and squeezed it, “And we’ll stay together, okay? I, I want to be in your life, Jules. If you’ll have me.”

 

Julian nodded excitedly, “Of course, dad. I’d love that.”

 

Father and son hugged for the first time in years. John delivered a kiss on his son’s forehead, even as his body ached in that position. Another matter on its way to resolution, that had to be a record. 

 

* * *

 

It was the day John was going home again and Paul was busy talking to security. He didn’t want John to have to face the fans and the press again, especially with all the new rumours floating around about him and Paul and of course, the assassin. 

 

Meanwhile, Ringo was entering John’s room to see if he needed any help as he dressed. Luckily for them, John wouldn’t be needing a wheelchair this time. He’d simply not allowed it. 

 

The drummer found John shirtless, staring at himself in a mirror. In his face he had an expression Ringo had seen many times before in his face: Self-hatred. Many times over the years John would fall into self-hating depressions, over his nose, his weight, his chin, his hair, his voice, everything. It was something so typical and so sad of John that he could never see himself as beautifully as others saw him. Now, Ringo saw his running his hands through his scars and winced as he saw the one on his right shoulder. They looked painful, but the drummer knew pain was the last thing John was thinking about at the moment. “Hey, lad.” he said at last, “How’s it going?”

 

John jumped, having not noticed him before, “Oh hello, Rings.” He turned back to the mirror, “I’ll be ready in a moment.”

 

His friend walked to him, “I know what you’re thinking.”

 

John let out an unimpressed laugh, “Really?”

 

“Yes.” Ringo sat on the bed and looked at friend, “You think they’re ugly and that you should be ashamed of them.”

 

John looked down and said nothing, his hands fisting at his sides. (Well, trying to in the right side at least)

 

“You think that Paul won’t like to see them, because you don’t like to see them, and that maybe you should get them ‘fixed’.” Ringo kept going, “You think that they make you uglier than you already think yourself to be. They’re like stains that won’t fade.”

 

“Okay, stop.” John interrupted.

 

But Ringo didn’t listen, “And not only that, everytime you look at them you’re reminded of the day you got them and how much it hurt. And you curse the doctors and the people that gave them to ye, because they don’t understand what it feels like to feel so tainted.”

 

“Ringo, stop it.” John’s voice was more forceful this time. 

 

“Why? Am I right?”

 

John sighed and went to grab his shirt, but said nothing.

 

Ringo stood up and stopped his arm as he went for the garment. “What I just said? Bullshit, all of it. It’s all in your head, John. Those scars aren’t stains, they’re-they’re brushstrokes. They don’t mean you’re ugly, they mean you survived.”

 

“What do you know about it?” John sneered.

 

“Don’t you remember, John?” Ringo said and raised his own shirt, there were the scars of all his surgeries. “I’ve been through this, John. I’ve been scared like you. But look at it this way:Someone tried to off you, and here you are, alive.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder, “You’re alive, Johnny. You’re alive and beautiful as always. I know you don’t believe it, you never have, but we do. And we still do, bullets or not.” 

 

John stared at him. He wanted to believe Ringo, but he couldn’t deny the truth that was in front of his eyes. John had turned ugly, downright horrendous as the years had passed. And Paul? His Paul remained as fresh as a flower, and beautiful as the sun. He hadn’t aged, why would he still find John a suitable lover? Still, to please his friend he said, “Alright.”

 

Ringo sighed, seeing that he hadn’t quite gotten through to John. He patted his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to finish getting dressed.”

 

* * *

 

Paul closed the door of the apartment behind him and John. They had installed Julian in the other flat beside this one, which John and Yoko also owned. And Sean, happy to see his brother, had insisted on staying with him for the night. John had seemed worried but Julian had reassured him that he could watch over his little brother. Cynthia was staying at a hotel on her insistence and she hadn’t seen John more than once. It had been a tense little meeting, but not unpleasant. John had seemed very happy to see her, but seeing his so weak and thin had been too much for her to bear long. 

 

John headed into the bedroom as Paul went to prepare them two cups of tea. He was deep in thought. Ringo had told him about John’s problems with the scars and he knew that he had to do something about it. It would not do good to let John fall into one of his depressive episodes, not with everything else he was also going through. Trial proceedings for Chapman would be beginning soon, and John had to be in his top game if he was to get through it. 

 

He entered the bedroom with the two cups to find John trying to put on his sleep shirt by himself. Paul moved fast, “Here, let me help you.”

 

“No.” Protested John, “I can do it.” Truth was, it wasn’t only pride over his strength he also didn’t want his boyfriend to see the scars. Before, they had been covered in gauze and bandages, now they were free. 

 

Paul helped him anyway, “It’s alright, John.” He smiled, “I’m here to help.”

 

John sighed at himself, why couldn’t he get better already? Why couldn’t the scars just fade away?

 

Paul saw him falling into the hole of bad thoughts and thought to himself, what could he do? Smiling, he got an idea. “Are you feeling tired? I made you a cuppa.”

 

John lied down, “Sorry, Paul. Don’t feel like having anything right now.”

 

“You haven’t had anything since this morning.” Paul insisted.

 

John shrugged, “Got a small stomach, don’t I?”

 

Paul stood up started to unbutton his own shirt, “You’re going to sleep then?”

 

John nodded with his eyes closed, “Yeah.”

 

Paul took off his trousers and folded them neatly. “Shame.” He said as he walked back to the bed, “I  _ was _ hoping I could tempt you…Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I’ll let you sleep.” He turned off his light and lied down with eyes closed. 

 

Then,

 

“Tempt me?” Came John’s intrigued voice.

 

Paul’s eyes opened and he grinned in the dark. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

 

John nudged him with his leg, “Well, can’t now, can I? You vixen.”

 

Paul turned away, “Well, if you insist on insulting me-”

 

John hated that he couldn’t turn on his right side, “Oh alright, then. Sorry.” He raised an eyebrow, “Please, sir, do tell what you were thinking about.”

 

Paul turned back to look at John. “Well,” He started as he put a hand on John’s clothed thigh, “I was thinking maybe…”

 

“Yeah?” Asked John in a breathy voice, “What were you thinking, macca?”

 

“I was thinking maybe we could consummate our newly fixed relationship.” Paul breathed into John’s ear, relishing in the moan he got in return.

 

“Oh, Paul.” John said, “I’d love to but y’know I can’t move much-”

 

Paul shushed him with a finger on his lips, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take care of you.” And he raised his leg to put it on the other side of John. He was on top of the older man, straddling him without putting to much pressure on his upper body. 

 

John’s left hand came up instinctively and grasped Paul’s leg. 

 

The younger man started to remove John’s pants, drawing with his fingers as more and more skin was revealed. It was when he went to remove the shirt that John tensed. 

 

John put a hand on Paul’s, “You don’t have to take this off.”

 

“But I wanna see you, darling.” Whispered Paul, “I wanna touch you.”

 

John sighed, “But, listen, the-the scars-”

 

“Mean nothing to me.” Said Paul as he leaned up to face John and started to run his hands under John’s shirt. “After all this years, you’re still the sexiest person I’ve ever seen. I want you, Johnny. I  _ need _ you.” He was practically moaning out the words. 

 

John swallowed, “Really?” He asked to the darkness.

 

Paul smiled and slowly started to slide the shirt off, “Really.” 

 

Once it was off (It took a while seeing as John couldn’t move his right arm much) Paul threw it to the floor and leaned down to kiss John. 

 

John moaned into the kiss and squeezed Paul’s leg. The vixen had gone to bed wearing only his boxers, so there were no clothes to take off there. 

 

Paul then moved on to John’s chest, dropping little kisses and licks here and there. At the same time, he was gently caressing the scars. As he got the navel, he looked up, “You really are beautiful, Johnny.”

 

John ran a hand through his lover’s soft hair, “So are you, Macca.” 

 

With that, Paul went even lower and started to nuzzle his nose near John’s hardened cock, making the older man whimper. “What do you want, Johnny?” He asked.

 

“You.” John moaned, “Always you.”

 

The younger man smiled against John’s hip, “Alright then.” He dropped a kiss there and then went to lick up John’s length, receiving a choked groan in return. Paul licked the head a few times before fully taking him into his mouth with ease. Many times had John complimented his blow job giving abilities and Paul took them happily, after all, he  _ was _ very good. He bubbled his head up and down as he ran his hands all over John’s body. 

 

The older man put a hand on his hair and lightly pulled, causing Paul to moan and the vibrations to make John’s hair curl. “God, you’re good at that.”

 

Paul moaned again and swirled his tongue around John’s cock, choking slightly as John thrusted up.

 

“Sorry.” Said John, not really sounding it. 

 

Paul popped off and licked his lips. 

 

John groaned, “ _ Paul _ .”

 

His lover laughed, “Don’t worry, Johnny. I’m not done yet. Have you got lube?”

 

John gestured to his bedside table, “Second drawer.” He heard as Paul retrieved it and wondered what his lover was planning. He couldn’t be planning to fuck John, what with his condition it’s not like it would be possible. The answer became clear as Paul’s breathy moans started to reach him, he looked up to find the clear shape of Paul coating his fingers in the lube and inserting them in himself. “Oh, you dirty boy.” He murmured. 

 

Paul answered with a hum as he stretched himself, it had been a long time since he’d had anyone inside him (apart from the rare occasions when Linda would insert her own fingers when they were feeling particularly in the mood.) and wanted to be well prepared so as to make the best out of the experience. Once he felt himself ready enough, he coated John’s dick next. 

 

“You ready?” Paul asked John as he positioned himself.

 

“Been ready, luv. Now hurry up.” John urged as he ran a hand over the curve of Paul’s ass. 

 

Paul tutted but did as told, carefully lowering himself and groaning as he felt John begging to enter him.

 

The older man longed to thrust upwards into Paul, but knew it would cause more pain than pleasure at this time. Instead he waited until his lover was fully seated on his lap. 

 

They both took a deep breath at the feeling.

 

Paul moaned, “Christ, I’ve missed this.”

 

John could mutter no more than a brief noise of agreement. 

 

Slowly, Paul started to move. His whimpers became louder and louder as he moved faster and faster. Soon enough, he was practically bouncing on John’s lap and letting out a vast array of pleasured sounds. He had always been the more vocal of the too. 

 

But it wasn’t just Paul, John was grunting and moaning as Paul moved. “Oh, that’s it, princess. That’s it!”

 

Paul had wanted to keep quiet in case of the kids being able to listen through the multiple walls, but all that was forgotten as his prostate was hit over and over again. After a particularly strong thrust, he practically screamed with pleasure. And he kept screaming. “Oh, John! Yes, god, I’ve missed you so much!”

 

“Me too, princess.  _ Damn _ , I’m close.” John’s eyes were squeezed shut in exaltation.

 

Paul was sweating as he moved, the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly with their wild movements. He felt like they were young again, going at it whenever they could. He smiled as he moaned and wailed, hopefully they could get that feeling again in more instants. 

 

After a few more minuted of Paul bouncing and screaming (It's no wonder George and Ringo had a hard time sleeping whenever they went on tour) and John groaning and complimenting him, they came together. John inside Paul and Paul across John’s chest. Exhaustedly, the younger man fell into John’s chest and rested there, John still buried inside him. 

 

John laughed breathlessly, “That’s gotta be the best sex I’ve had in years.” No one compared to Paul in bed or anywhere else. 

 

Paul nodded into John’s chest, “Good to, good to know.” 

 

“Okay, sleeping beauty, you need to move.” Said John, “Or else my dick’s gonna fall off.”

 

Paul, deciding that sounded absolutely detestable, lifted himself up and away from John. He fell on his back and breathed out, “I love you, Johnny.”

 

John moved close to rest his head in the crook of Paul’s arm, “I love you too, Macca. You don’t know how much.”

 

Paul smiled as he fell asleep, “I think I do.” 


	7. Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had something i wanted to write but i forgot....oops. 
> 
> er, chapman is in the chapter for a bit and he's a murderer so yeah, he gets punched. that's that. by who? read ahead lol

 

John woke up shaking and sweating. For a moment he was petrified, widened eyes staring up at the ceiling. He could feel Paul sleeping beside him and part of him cursed him for not awakening to help John. But Paul was exhausted, he’d been waking up every night to comfort John after his nightmares and staying up afterwards to watch over him. Slowly, he raised himself up, hissing when his right arm moved too fast. He was doing the exercises with Paul, but the damn appendage was still useless.

 

He searched for his glasses on the bedside table, finding them after he accidentally pushed them into the ground. He stood up and headed out into the hallway. John paused outside Sean’s door and opened it slightly, smiling at the sight of his two sons curled up against each other with Sean drooling on Julian’s shirt. 

 

He went into the kitchen and went to pour himself a glass of water from the gallons on the fridge, then flinched as the door of the fridge closed too fast. He nearly dropped his glass, the sound reminding him of an all too familiar kind of bang. John sat down on the table and stared out of the window, eyes lost in the night. 

 

_ He was leaving the car, thinking about telling Sean about the fat bird he’d seen sitting on top of a woman’s head, when he heard his name being called.  _

 

_ Yoko was ahead of him, about to enter the building. It was a cold night and John didn’t want to have to stay outside any longer, he turned anyways, “Yes? Did you want somethin-” _

 

**_pain_ **

**_hideous pain_ **

**_agony_ **

**_just pain_ **

**_only pain_ **

 

_ There was a scream, it had to be Yoko. Or could it be someone else? He was on the street, he was going to die in the street like a dog. He didn’t want to die he couldn’t die he had sean he had julian christ when was the last time he had talked to julian and paul when had he last talked to paul no he couldn’t die he couldn’t _

 

John snapped his gaze away and dropped his head into his hands. The imaged didn’t go away, the pain didn’t go away...would he ever be able to forget? 

 

It was a cold night and a shiver ran through him, making him hug himself. He held himself tightly and dropped his head to the table. He just wanted to forget…

 

* * *

 

The next morning John had dark shadows under his eyes so he’d grabbed a pair of his widest sunglasses. He, Paul, and Yoko were heading to NYPD to collect John’s stuff, which had been kept as evidence. 

 

Yoko was in the shotgun seat of the limousine looking over some papers and giving Paul and John the chance to cuddle together in the backseat. John had his head on Paul’s shoulder and was squeezing his hand tightly. 

 

Seeing his lover’s anxiety, Paul placed a kiss on John’s forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“What if he’s there?” John whispered, forehead creased. 

 

“I’ll be sure to punch his ugly mug then.” Paul told him, causing John to chuckle. 

 

“You might get in trouble.” He objected.

 

The younger man shrugged, “For you, I’ll get into any kind of trouble.”

 

John blushed and batted Paul’s arm with his left hand, “Don’t be soft.”

 

Paul leaned over and whispered to him, “Oh, believe me, Johnny. I’m  _ not _ .” Then he put a hand on John’s thigh.

 

John took a breath, “Feeling risky, are we?”

 

Drawing circles in John’s inner thigh, Paul only hummed.

 

John let out the breath, “You’re trying to distract me.” He said.

 

Paul nodded into John’s neck, “Is it working?”

 

John smiled, “Yes.” He catched a kiss, “Thank you.”

 

His lover smiled up at him, “I love you.”

 

John was unable to answer as the car drew to a stop in the garage. They’d arrived.

 

Paul took his hand and kissed it, “It’ll be okay.”

 

John smiled thinly, there was a weight on his chest and it wouldn’t go away.

 

* * *

 

Everything went quiet as the trio(and two bodyguards) entered. Clerks stopped their movements, officers put down their coffees, and detectives looked up from their case files. Yoko stared them down while Paul put a supportive hand on John’s shoulders, the older man looking at the ground. He hated police and he hated all of them looking at him like an exhibit even more. 

 

Suddenly, a warm and rotund face appeared in front of them. “Hello, Mr. Lennon, Mrs. Lennon, Mr. McCartney. I am James Sullivan, Chief of Detectives here. Please, follow me.”

 

Happy to get out of view, they followed him into a bare room with only a large cardboard box on a metal table. 

 

“Here,” Said Sullivan, “You may take it home, Mr. Lennon. But there is some paperwork to get through.”

 

“I will take care of that.” Said Yoko and after patting John’s back, “Lead the way.”

 

“Of course. Goodbye, Mr.Lennon. If I may,” Sullivan started, “We here at NYPD are happy you are safe and well.”

 

John nodded in vague acknowledgment, with Paul smiling kindly at the man but silently urging him to leave. 

 

Once they were gone, John went and stood in front of the table, staring at the box. 

 

Paul went to his side, “Johnny? You don’t have to open it.”

 

John didn’t listen, he slowly removed the lid of the box and threw it aside. The first thing he found were his cassettes, he’d been carrying them from the studio. Then he spotted his jacket, but didn’t touch it. Then, in a bag, he had his glasses. Gingerly, he took the bag out and stared at them in the bad light.

 

Paul blinked at the sight. The square-ish white glasses were covered in blood. John’s blood. He saw John reach up to take off his sunglasses and winced, Paul didn’t want him to see that. 

 

The sunglasses fell to the ground first, then the bloody ones. John’s shaking hands let them fall and then he ran in the direction of the bin he’s spotted earlier. On his knees and vomiting his insides immediately. 

 

Paul went to his side and dropped to his knees next to him. He hugged John from behind, “It’s okay, John. Let it out.”

 

The older man was sobbing now, the blood making it ten times more real than it was. His blood. And it was probably all over his clothes as well. He curled up in Paul’s arms, needing to remind himself that he was still here.

 

Paul held him and brushed his hair. How he hated that man, that Chapman. He did this to his John, hurt him and damaged him even more. It was unforgivable. 

 

A few minutes later the door opened and Yoko walked in. She stopped when she spotted them.

 

Paul stared up at her, still rubbing John’s back. After a few seconds he nodded in the direction of the glasses. 

 

She sighed and picked both pairs up, putting the bloody ones back in the box after staring at them with a spooked expression. She went over to them, knelt down, and brushed her hand down John’s hair. “Are you ready to go?”

 

John was silent for a few moments but then he coughed out a soft ‘yeah.’

 

The two helped him stand up and Yoko gave him his sunglasses back, which he put on quickly, wanting to hide his red eyes.

 

Paul grabbed the box and followed the couple out. He just wanted to get out of there, for John’s sake. But things hadn’t gotten to the worse part yet. 

 

They were walking through the bullpen on their way out when John froze, Paul almost bumping into him. He frowned and walked to his side. He was about to speak when he saw him. The man. 

 

John felt himself go cold, his hold on Yoko’s hand grow slack. Right there in front of him, being escorted by five policemen and in handcuffs, was Chapman. John would recognize him anywhere. Then the man turned and locked gazes with John. The singer wanted to stand straight and smug, make sure Chapman knew he had failed, but he couldn’t. He felt himself grow weaker and his breath’s getting harder to get out.

 

Hearing John’s breath stuttering, Paul wanted nothing more than to walk towards that man and wipe that growing smirk of his face. But before he could throw that box aside and do it, Yoko moved forwards. 

 

The sea of people parted as she moved, even the officers around the would-be murderer. With a fierce expression, she drew back her fist and wiped that smirk off his face. 

 

The crack resonated throughout the bullpen and everything was quiet for a moment. Then Chapman groaned and moved back, his nose bleeding. 

 

Yoko turned away and walked back towards the pair, looking completely unbothered for a person who’d just broken a nose. She took John’s hand and squeezed, “Ready to go?”

 

John and Paul laughed, the former looking amazed and the latter thankful. Some of the other officers laughed too and none made a move to hold them back as the trio walked out. After all, who could blame her?

 

* * *

 

The ride back had been quiet, with John dozing on Paul’s arm. The box had been in the boot of the car and Yoko had taken it into her office when they’d gotten off. Paul had guided John upstairs, smiling at Julian when the boy had looked concerned at the sight of his father. John had been looking at the ground, seemingly deep in thought. 

 

Now, the pair were in the bedroom. John was between Paul’s legs with his chest resting on Paul’s chest and stomach. The younger man was playing with his hair, just like John liked. They were like that for what could have been an hour. 

 

Finally, John spoke up. “When are we going to start recording?”

 

Paul froze, unsure as how to answer the question. “I, after Christmas I suppose. Do you want to do it here, in New York?”

 

John nodded, “Yeah, I don’t feel like travelling any time soon.”

 

Paul expected that. 

 

“The hit factory is a good place, we can work there.” It sounded like a question. 

 

Paul kissed the back of John’s head, “Wherever you prefer, darling.” He knew that John was really avoiding the elephant in the room and wanted him to be a comfortable as possible in preparation for that conversation. 

 

John reached up to grab his hand and kissed Paul’s palm, then held it close to his chest. He let out a shuddering breath then spoke, “I want to forget about it. About him and that night.”

 

Paul squeezed his hand in encouragement to continue. 

 

“I’m tired of the nightmares, of seeing his face every night...of seeing the barrel pointed at me.” He let out a sad laugh, “I don’t even think I saw the barrel that night but it’s so fuckin’ vivid, man.” He shook his head, “And I remember how it felt when the bullets hit me, every  _ single _ bullet, just barreling into me...I just want to forget.”

 

Paul could tell him that remembering would make him stronger, that pain improved character, but John already knew that. John grew up in pain, it was what made him who he was today. John had been through so much in life, he deserved to forget some of that. Instead, he just held John closer. “I promise you’ll never have to see him again, I won’t allow it. And at night I’ll be right here to hold you. You’re not alone, Johnny. I love you.”

 

John smiled softly, “I love you too.” And he turned to kiss Paul, ignoring the spikes of pain that ran through his upper body. 

 

Paul kissed him back but moved away to put himself in front of John, not wanting the older man to hurt himself. 

 

John opened his legs to let Paul get closer and let his knees draw Paul’s hips in. 

 

Paul laughed into John’s mouth as he stumbled. “John, the kids are right outside.”

 

The older man buried his head in Paul’s neck, “We’ll just have to keep quiet then.”

 

“John-”

 

“Please, Macca.” Whispered John as he started to plant little kisses on the other’s neck and chin. “I need you, I want you inside me.”

 

His loved bit down a moan, “You’re injured.” His eyes had closed and he was unconsciously moving his head back to give John more access. 

 

“I’ll go on my front, prop me up on some pillows, and we’re good to go.” 

 

Paul laughed slightly, John sounded so impatient. 

 

John poked him stomach sharpy, “Don’t laugh, I’m horny.”

 

Paul looked down at him with a fond smile.

 

John raised an eyebrow, “What?”

 

“S’nothing...It’s just, you haven’t changed.” Paul said, “It’s just like back in your bedroom back in Liverpool.”

 

John smiled too as he pictured it. “Yes, trying to keep quiet with Mimi downstairs.” Then he smirked, “Biting down screams as you fucked me into the mattress.” He brought Paul closer, “You remember that night some drunk called you a ‘pretty lass’...and I laughed…”

 

Paul giggled at the memory, nodding at John to keep going. 

 

John moved his hand to Paul’s ass and started to caress him. “And you dragged me to the alley and told me that you were-”

 

“‘Going to show you how much of a lad I was’ Yes.” Paul couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “God, that sounds awful.”

 

John laughed too, “Yeah, but what followed wasn’t. I couldn’t sit down properly for the rest of the night.”

 

Paul was about to answer with a remark of that nature when there was a knock on the door. “Hello? Dad?” Came Julian’s voice, “You have a guest.”

 

Paul sprang off John, much to his lover’s disappointment. 

 

“Who is it?” Yelled John and let himself back into the pillows.

 

“David Bowie.” There was excitement in Julian’s voice. 

 

John opened his eyes, “Alright, then.” Then to Paul, “Go get him, won’t you babe?”

 

Paul scoffed, “Oh, stand up, Lennon.”

 

John shook his head and snuggled further down into the pillows, “Can’t do, sir. I’m injured, see.”

 

Paul raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

 

“Plus,” Continued John, “David’s allowed in the bed, he’s David.”

 

The eyebrow went higher.

 

John sighed, “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We didn’t  _ do _ anything, but don’t pretend you've never found him attractive.”

 

Paul shook his head, “Of course I don't.”

 

Now it was John’s eyebrow’s turn to rise up. 

 

“Well,” Amended Paul, “A bit, maybe.” He lifted a finger, “Just a bit, though.”

 

“Uh huh.” Said John, then closed his eyes. “Go get him, please?” He smirked, “I’ll make it worth your while later.”

 

“I hope you don’t mean a threesome.” Said Paul as he stood up. 

 

“No, but I’m sure David wouldn’t mind-” Bowie knew all about their relationship. Not ‘cause John had told him. No, John had told Elton whilst drunk and then the man had gone and told David whilst drunk. And there it was, then David had told Paul that he knew whilst drunk and Paul had told John that he knew that David knew whilst drunk. Then John had told Elton that he knew that David knew...whilst drunk. Point was, 1974 was a wild year with loads of drunken confessions.

 

“No, thanks, John. We’ll have none of that.” Paul stopped him and went out the door. 

 

John was dozing when he felt a great wait fall right on top of him. He groaned, “David, you tit; get off.”

 

The younger man laughed, “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

 

“Seeing as you’re right on top of me bullet wounds, yeah just a tad.” John answered him. 

 

The weight was off in an instant, “Ah, shit, I’m sorry.”

 

John opened his eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll forgive you this time.”

 

“I have a present for you.” David said and went to grab something off the floor, it was a large box. 

 

Paul sat down next to John and helped him sit up. 

 

The older man grinned wildly, “Oooh, what is it?”

 

David held out the box, “It’s not really from me. Freddie asked me to buy it for you, it was his idea.”

 

Paul frowned, “Freddie? From Queen?”

 

David nodded. 

 

John took the box, “Oh?” He knew Queen, had listened to them some times over the years but never really focused on them. It was really kind of this Freddie to send him a gift. (Plenty of fans were doing that but none of his celebrity friends had done it yet, apart from George. Perhaps they didn’t want to overwhelm him, but John loved gifts! He enjoyed every single one he got.) He took the lid off and gasped. Inside there was a soft little bed and there laid a tiny russian blue kitten. “Oh my god…” He picked (him) up and started to stroke her. He reminded him of his Alice, his late cat that had fallen off a window.

 

Paul moved the box away and smiled, “That’s a lovely present.”

 

“Yeah, Freddie’s crazy about cats. Says they always make him feel better.” David said, smiling at the soft sight in front of him. 

 

John smushed his face on his fur, “Me too.” He looked up briefly, “Does he have a name?”

 

David shook his head, “Not at all, it’s your choice.”

 

John looked down at the kitten, “We’ll go with Mercury then, in Freddie’s honour.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted.” Paul said and started to play with the cat’s tiny whiskers. 

 

John looked at David, “Do you have his number? I’d love to call him or write him a letter or something.”

 

“Yeah, I think so. I think I wrote it down, but left the paper at the hotel. They’re on tour right now, so maybe it’s best to call.” Said David. 

 

John nodded, his face still practically buried in the soft fur. “Alright, then.”

 

Paul smiled at his lover, it was good to see him relaxed after such a stressful day. But he was also somewhat disappointed, because he knew that John would pay attention to that kitten and nothing else for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow. Paul would need to take a cold shower. But when his lover turned with a wide smiled and raised one of the kitten’s arms to wave hello, Paul couldn’t find it in himself to mind. He’d take twenty cold showers if it meant that smile stayed on John’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh this chapter feels meh. I finished it at two in the morning and im falling asleep so. enjoy?


	8. Christmas

The day was tense. Paul was silently making coffee, grumbling at himself. Linda and the kids were at the hotel, they had arrived the night before and Paul had forgotten about their arrival. He’d gotten an angry call from Linda, asking how come he’d forgotten to pick them up. Truth was, he’d been distracted by John. He felt incredibly guilty about forgetting his kids like that. Linda had asked that he come to the hotel soon, to see the kids. The car was picking him up in an hour.

John was in the living room, doodling moodily. 

 

Paul stared at him from the door, stirring his tea. “I’m not abandoning you.” He finally said.

 

John didn’t answer.

 

Paul held back a sigh and looked at the ground. He walked towards John and sat beside him, “I have to go, Johnny. They’re my family.” He wouldn’t apologize for that.

 

John it down his pencil and ran a hand over his face, “I know. I just...I don’t want you to go.” He said in a whisper.

 

“Oh, darling,” Paul said as he moved closer and held John tight against his side, “I’m not going anywhere. Give me a call and I’m here. They’ll be gone after New Years and we’ll record the album, yeah?” It sparked a guilt in him to refer to his children so carelessly.

 

John held on desperately to him, burying his face in his neck, “I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep alone.”

 

“Yoko will-“

 

“Mother doesn’t sleep here.” John interrupted, “What if I wake up the boys?” He sniffed, “Christ, what am I gonna do…?”

 

Paul frowned. How he wished he could stay with John, but he needed to be with his wife and children. “Mimi will be here soon, yeah?”

 

John burrowed closer, “I guess. I, em, I haven’t seen her in years.”

 

Paul raised his chin, “Well, she’s going to be right here. And I’ll be over here too, I just gotta be with my kids as well.” 

 

John looked down, “And with Linda.”

 

“She is my wife, Johnny.”

 

John felt his eyes getting wet but he blinked away the tears. He knew that, he understood it. But he didn’t want it, he wanted Paul to be his. John wanted to wake up to Paul everyday, kiss him and hold his hand, dance with him, sing with him, raise kids with him...John had always wanted that, but he couldn’t have it in this world.  Even before all this, it had been his fantasy. “You know, I...I wrote ‘Just Like Starting Over For You.’” He said.

 

Paul gasped quietly and leaned down to kiss him softly, “I love you, darling. Believe me.”

 

John felt himself smiling at the words. He sniffed and look up, “I do.” He reaches for Paul’s hand, “I love you too. Always.”

 

They kissed.

 

* * *

 

Fred Seaman was on his way to the office in the main floor of the Dakota when a refined looking woman, heavy on the years, entered the building with her heels clicking on the spotless floor. He recognized her immediately from the pictures in his boss’ loft. He walked towards her, “Mrs. Smith?”

 

She turned to him, “Yes? Who are you?”

 

“I am your so- nephew’s assistant.” Free stumbled. He looked towards the door, “Are your bags in the car?”

 

She held on tightly to her purse, “Yes, they are. But first, where is my nephew?”

 

“In the apartment, seventh floor.” He looked around, “Would you like me to lead you?”

 

She offered a thin smile, “Yes, thank you.”

 

The elevator ride was quiet and awkward. Free has no idea what to say. Mimi Smith was very different from Yoko’s mother, seemingly colder and more tense. Then again, her nephew had almost died. He held his hand out for her to leave the lift then lead her to the dark wood door that was the Lennon’s main residence. 

 

Mimi knocked promptly.

 

The nanny answered, speaking to them in Japanese. Mimi frowned at her, impatient to see her John.

 

His voice came from inside, the words were in Japanese but it couldn’t be denied that it was him. 

 

Mimi pushed past the woman, heart beating wildly. She reached the living room and stopped.

 

John was laying on the white sofa, staring at the ceiling but he sat up when he saw his aunt. He gasped, “Mimi.” Of course he knew she was coming but having her here, right in front of him, it brought tears to his eyes. It had to be the meds making him all emotional.

 

She opened her arms and he ran into them, folding himself to bury his face in her neck. She held him, needing to feel him there. 

 

He fell to his knees in front of her and looked up, “I’ve missed you.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow, “Well, perhaps if you visited more often.”

 

“I know.” John stood up and went back to the sofa, “How was your flight?”

 

Mimi gaped at him, “How can you ask me that? You nearly died.”

 

John flinched, “Yes, I’m aware.” He picked up Mercury and petted him anxiously. He didn’t want to fight with Mimi. 

 

The woman’s infamous temper grew, “How could you let this happen? I’ve always said that moving to this damned country was a mistake! And the marches and the protests, you risking your life like a  _ fool!  _ You would have left your son an orphan-“

 

“Shut up!” John yelled as he stood up. He didn’t want to hear this, another rant about how much of an idiot he was. “If you’re going to be like this then you can go back to England for all I care!”

 

Mimi gasped, not realizing her mistake. It had been years since she’d fought with her nephew and the fact that he was a different man escaped her. “I came here for you, John. I don’t deserve this-“

 

“Daddy?” Came a young voice.

 

They both turned to see Sean standing at the living room entrance, looking confused and scared. Julian was out at the moment, shopping in the big city.

 

John sighed, “Did we wake you, Sean-Chan?”

 

His son nodded.

 

Without looking at Mimi, John walked towards him and picked him, whimpering quietly as his wounds were aggravated. “Let me read you a story, okay?”

 

Sean was quiet as he was led back to his room, eyes narrowed at the foreign woman that was shouting at his daddy.

 

Sighing, Mimi followed after a few minutes. She found John in Sean’s bed, his son resting on top of him, reading Alice in Wonderland. She chuckled quietly at the funny faces and voices he made, a fond smile remaining after. 

 

Finally, the boy fell back asleep. John sat there staring at him.

 

Mimi cleared her throat, “I’m sorry.” She said. “I’ve been worried, terrified. I don’t know how I would survive without you.”

 

John stood up with a sigh, “I know. I’m sorry too.” He took her into his arms, “But I’m right here, Mims, I’m alright.”

 

She held him close, “Promise me you’ll be more careful.”

 

John indulged her, “Okay. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

It was Christmas and the Dakota as packed. George was cuddled with Olivia, holding her hand tightly while Dhani ran around chasing the cats. Ringo had brought his girlfriend Barbara who seemed to get along with everyone. They could all see that she was good for Richie, patient and humorous. Linda had helped a lot with the food, but John had cooked some things as well. Mimi had been impressed with his cooking. He hadn’t been able to see much of Paul, much less just the two of them. 

 

John and Sean had done a wonderful job of decorating the apartment, there were santa hats everywhere and candy canes in every corner. Yoko had helped with certain placements too. Things had been tense between her and Mimi, but they had kept their problems to themselves so as to not upset John for which he was very grateful. Julian and Sean had gotten along with the McCartney kids just fine, though the eldest had a hard time around the girls. James, Sean, and Dhani had formed a loud but amusing group of adventurers much to the joy of their parents. 

 

Right now the ‘evil(thanks John)’ soy turkey was warming up, while Paul and John set the table. 

 

“How has everything with Mimi been?” The younger man asked.

 

John sighed quietly, “Good for the most part. She’s been running me up the wall with her comments on how I run the house but y’know, it wouldn’t be Mimi if she didn’t.” He looked at his lover, “How’s everything with Linda?”

 

Paul stared down at an ornate plate, “Well enough.” Things hadn’t been great between the two of them, not since Japan. It was more than the issue with John and coming here, Linda had told Paul that she didn’t want him to tour anymore. He hadn’t been happy. Touring was the ultimate rush for him, he lived for the crowd and the fans and the response of the audience. He knew that she wasn’t as big on touring as him, but to stop completely? Paul wasn’t old and he didn’t plan on retiring any time soon, he was going to make more albums and he needed to promote them. They had been putting off having an actual conversation for months now. 

 

John took Paul’s hand and squeezed it, “Are you okay?”

 

Paul offered a small smile, “I will be.” At least that was the hope.

 

Mimi appeared in the doorway, “The food is ready, is the table ready?”

 

Paul nodded, “Yes, Mrs. Smith.” A childish fear of Mimi had never left him, the more he grew so did her. 

 

John scoffed at him but Paul just shrugged. 

 

Soon the kids were running in shouting for food and the two of them looked at each other with raised eyebrows, who would have thought that this would have been their lives?

 

* * *

 

Dinner had passed with ease and laughter, with all strong topics being pushed aside. Mimi observed as everyone played games in the white living room, with Mercury cuddled on her lap. Almost everyone, that is. 

 

John had called Yoko away into his bedroom with a nervous gaze. He had decided to confide in her that he had resumed his relationship with Paul. 

 

Yoko closed the door behind her, “What is it, John?” She asked. 

 

John sat down on his bed and was quiet for a while. Finally he let out a small sigh, “Do you remember our conversation from a couple months ago? Before we started recording?”

 

Yoko didn’t look away from him, even as he avoided her gaze. “Yes, I do.”

 

John sniffed, “We never finished it.”

 

His wife clasped her hands together, “So, what happened did not change your mind?”

 

John looked incredibly guilty, “I’m so sorry.” He choked out.

 

Yoko went to his side, “What happened to us is not solely your fault. You’re right, we need to talk about the divorce.”

 

John winced at the word, “Did you keep the papers?”

 

Yoko sighed, “I did.”

 

John rested his head on her shoulder, needing her comfort even now. “I love you, I always have.”

 

She leaned close to him, “I love you too, John. And because of that I won’t keep you from Paul.”

 

John wasn’t very surprised, “You figured it out.”

 

“Hard not to.” She responded.

 

John shifted a bit, “I won’t keep away from your Sams either.”

 

Yes, her two Sams. Yoko nodded, “Quite. It feels rather beneficial.”

 

John’s voice was meek, “So we’re doing this?” Getting a divorce, again.

 

Yoko had one more question, “You're leaving me for him, but will Paul leave Linda for you?”

 

John looked at the white carpet stained with cigarette ash, “...I don’t know.” Truth was, he doubted it.

 

Yoko stood up, “Ask him and we’ll go from there.”

 

John smiled up at her, “Thank you, for everything.”

 

She ran a fond hand through his hair, “We did the best we could for each other.”

 

John leaned into her touch, “We were rather iconic, weren’t we?”

 

She laughed, “Perhaps too much.”

 

He stood and hugged her to him, “Never.”

 

“Yes,” She agreed, “Never.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, thank you for having us.” Paul said. It was time for them to leave, George and Ringo having departed a few minutes before. It was around three in the morning and all the kids were falling asleep. 

 

“Of course. You’ve done so much for John.” Yoko answered him. John himself was picking up the living room with Linda’s help. 

 

They both looked at him as he picked up a toy of Sean’s and shook his head at his son’s messiness. 

 

“He’s so different.” Paul spoke before he could stop himself. “More...responsible? Organized. Good with kids.”

 

Yoko nodded, “It wasn’t easy for him. A holiday from the music scene helped him.” She looked down and hesitated for a moment before speaking, “I hope you know, Paul, that I didn’t force him into that. He chose to retire himself.”

 

Paul turned to her, “I know. I’m proud of him.”

 

“He’ll be glad to hear that.” She told him with a small smile. But then her face turned sad, “I hope you will be gentle, Paul.”

 

He frowned, “Sorry?”

 

She sighed, “When you let him down.” At his baffled look, Yoko’s eyes turned hard. “We both know you’re not going to leave Linda and your kids for him. No matter how much you might love him.”

 

Paul gasped at her. “You don’t know-”

 

“I know that he is prepared to change his entire life for you,  _ again _ .” Yoko interrupted. “But you love your perfect family too much to do the same. I understand it, you worked hard to find a woman like Linda. And you’re afraid that if you leave her and run back to John, it will end badly and you’ll have lost her forever.”

 

Damn, Paul had forgotten how good Yoko was at reading people. He straightened himself up, “I think this is something between me and John.”

 

“No. Linda and I are just as involved as you.” Yoko said, “He’s made his choice, now you must make yours.”

 

He looked down and whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Like I said,” She answered, “Be gentle when you let him down.”

 

“Everything alright here?” Came Linda’s voice. She and John were in front of them, Linda already wearing her coat. The kids were outside in the corridor, still trying out some of their new toys.

 

Paul perked up like an excited puppy, “Of course! You ready to go?”

 

“Yeah.” Linda said and then smiled at Yoko, “Thank you so much for having us here, Yoko. It’s a beautiful home.”

 

Yoko took the accepted hand, “You should say that to John, he keeps it like that.”

 

“A woman’s work is never done.” John said in a high, goofy voice. 

 

They all laughed, but then there was a silence. 

 

Paul broke it as he reached out to slap John’s back gently, “I’ll see you after New Years and we’ll get started on the album, alright?”

 

John smiled at him, “Yeah, Macca.”

 

Yoko turned to Linda, “Actually, before you leave Linda, could I ask your opinion on some photographs? It’ll be quick.”

 

Lin nodded, “Of course, lead the way.”

 

Soon they were gone and the two men stared at each other.

 

“John I-”

 

“Macca-”

 

They laughed. Paul gestured at him, “Go on.”

 

John smiled softly at him and stepped closer, “I just wanted to say I love you.”

 

Paul blushed and stared lovingly at him. He put a warm hand on John’s cheek and caressed the skin with his thumb. “I love you too, Johnny. Never doubt that, please. I can’t promise it’s all going to work out but, never doubt it.”

 

John’s eyes were sad. “I won’t.” He promised. “I will never doubt your love again.” Even when Paul let him down, when he went off with Linda again like he knew Paul would. 

 

Paul barely had time to kiss his hand before Linda and Yoko returned. 

 

Lin smiled at them, “All good?” Why did she keep asking things like that? John wondered.

 

Paul moved close to her and took her hand, “Always.” Then, perhaps feeling guilty over his previous conversation, kissed her cheek. 

 

John would never say aloud how much it killed him to see that. They waved the McCartneys out and John shut the door afterwards with a sigh. 

 

Yoko put a hand on his shoulder, “I have some work to do, will you be alright?”

 

John nodded, “Ye...yeah. I’ll go be with Mimi and the boys.”

 

She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, “Everything will work out.” She said. 

 

John simply hummed. Yes, everything would work out.

 

 

But for who?


End file.
